B SMurph was truly disappointed. He sat looking out at the harbor and directly at the Mayflower II. His first thought was “This is what we come to?” Two men even older than him were sitting on the next bench saying how it isn’t what it was and things are all messed up.

Murph’d seen the morning news. Doctors were suing the president over transgender rules he’d put in place which they said forced them to perform procedures that conflicted with patients’ well being, procedures that were medically unsound for their patients. States were suing the Feds over the President’s transgender bathroom imposition on schools, that he bullied through by threatening to withhold Title IX funds. ISIS took credit for a child suicide bomber at a wedding in Turkey, killing more than fifty people. Iran was purposefully harassing American ships and Russia was poised for invading Crimea.

The president had finally gotten down south after having golfed through another vacation while Louisiana suffered the devastation of a flood that destroyed more than a hundred thousand homes and caused more than a billion dollars in damage. This was the president who wouldn’t articulate the name of our enemy, whose staff doctored or bullied intelligence people to doctor intelligence reports, who skipped the majority of his intelligence briefings and who began his political career in the home of a known terrorist reputed to have been responsible for killing two police officers.

And on and on.

Both Presidential candidates topped the charts with unfavorability and untrustworthiness. One of them appeared to be protected by the State Department, the lack-of-justice Department and the president himself. The other was a wild card that threatened the status quo. The first one was supported and protected by a biased media which   no longer hid the fact that it was biased and was in the tank for that candidate. The other was being continually chastised by that same media.

It’s all disgraceful, Murph thought. Our founding fathers must be turning in their graves. He laughed to himself, not because it was funny but because of what we’d come to. They’ve made a sham of our system, he thought. They’ve made a farce of it all.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was the BS Nation we’d become. No one could trust the  State Department or the FBI anymore. The lack-of-justice department was even more untrustworthy, especially after that meeting on the tarmac with  that one candidate’s husband. The BS explanation said the department would follow the FBI’s recommendations, so it did in one instance, the one favorable to the candidate, but not in the other, the one unfavorable. The IRS was even worse than the other  agencies, political now and used like a mafia hit man.

BS,BS, BS, Murph thought. One hundred-ten million dollars BS, because that’s how much that candidate had made peddling…what? And the scandals and lies continue. The president golfs, the candidate sloughs it off and the media covers it up.

Murph stood up and looked out over the beauty of the harbor. He remembered when everyone drank water from the backyard hose. They didn’t sell bottled water back then. They didn’t openly peddle the BS back then. But it was there, he thought, as he pondered how widespread the BS was now, how far we seemed to have sold our politics and our highest offices to the highest bidders and most corrupt. Nixon had to resign because of Watergate. This all made Watergate Mickey Mouse.


Butterflies cover final

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